


Walks In Beauty

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama/Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:50:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim performs the most important detective work of his life: investigating Blair's feelings for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walks In Beauty

DISCLAIMER: I know they're not mine, but I can dream, can't I? I only want to use them for a little while and will put them back in relatively good condition, only slightly worse for wear. Please don't sue, *I* don't have anything *you* want. Life's not fair, you know? No money, no gain, just pure unadulterated lust and passion. 

The line from a poem that I can't remember the name or author of just kept running through my head and refused to go away, so, of course, I had to write about it.   
WARNING: Newbie writer. Hasn't been beta read, all mistakes are mine. If you like it, please let me know. If you don't like it, please let me know, but nicely. My psyche is fragile.   
Rating: Pre-slash. PG, for language and some hanky, but we haven't gotten to the panky yet. I'm a real headcase, so I have to get this out of the way first. Besides sex starts in the head, right? Right? There's more cuming uh, coming later. If you're under 18 or don't like the idea of men loving men, go away. There are places for people like you, but this is not one of them. 

## Walks in Beauty

Debbi Bailey  


Detective James Ellison of the Cascade PD leaned against his truck, waiting. He'd thought long and hard about just what to do and had finally arrived at what he considered to be the best course of action. Action. Yeah, he was definitely a man of action. Veteran of military special operations teams and the Cascade Vice Squad, he'd certainly seen plenty of action in several arenas. But, in all that time, he'd never been as frightened on any mission or case as he was now --- or more determined to succeed. 

The inconceivable part was the source of his fear. Never in a million years would he have guessed that one very small, very young man could cause his heart to flutter and his guts clench in abject terror. He'd faced predators, two-legged and four-legged, hunted and been hunted by mercenaries intent on killing him, tracked and captured every conceivable form of scum that humanity could become, and never, *never*, felt such panic as in this moment. That one bright-eyed bundle of energy, named Blair Sandburg, could have this much power over him was almost unimaginable. 

He couldn't even remember when the shift had begun. It seemed that one moment Sandburg was just an irritating necessity in his life and the next he *was* his life. Shaking his head and smiling slowly, he marveled at the transformation. Before Blair, as he'd begun to think of the first part of his existence, he'd become cold and indifferent, primarily because of the nature of his work. Seeing only the vile underbelly of society had soured him, leaving him with little interest in life in general and people in particular. His few attempts at relationships invariably ended in screaming matches or, even sadder, cold withdrawals. 

Then, at a time when he thought his sanity was gone, Blair appeared. Remembering the confusion of that time, he shivered thinking how it might have ended. With no point of reference or explanation for what was happening to him, he could have easily spent the remainder of his days in the mental ward of a hospital, lost in the maelstrom of sensory overload. But it hadn't happened, he reminded himself, because Blair had come and that one fact had changed everything. Blair had come. 

Shaking himself loose from the dark memories, he returned to contemplation of Life With Blair. Smiling, he wondered what the focus of his devotion would think of himself as dividing line between the phases of Jim's life. Probably get caught up in some discussion of how primitive man marked time. His love definitely enjoyed talking. Just another of his numerous adorable traits. Jim could just see him --- pacing back and forth, bouncing on the balls of his feet, waving his hands, hair flying around that beautiful face --- as he explored all the facets of the topic of conversation. 

Jim snorted softly to himself. Who would've thought big, tough Jim Ellison would --- hell, *COULD* --- think another man beautiful. At that thought, dark memories of another time raised their ugly heads. He remembered another beautiful face --- wide blue eyes filled with tears and kiss-swollen lips begging him not to leave. Shaking his head again, he pushed that face away, reburying the memories. That wouldn't happen this time. It couldn't, not if he intended to go on living in relative sanity. 

Jim knew his job stereotyped everyone and there was precious little tolerance for anything outside the 'norm' as defined by those stereotypes. He'd experimented some. 

'Don't leave me, how can you leave me? I love you!!,' whispered a memory. 

Being in the military had provided ample opportunity and Vice was even more open, but he'd limited his liaisons, primarily because of repercussions. It wasn't good to get a name for being 'easy' --- provided too big a target. 

A flash --- dimly lit room, hard driving music, hot, sweaty, aroused bodies moving, thrusting, pushing toward the edge of insanity --- caused Jim to gasp. 'NO!!!' 

Since joining Major Crimes he'd been even more careful. The few affairs with men he had indulged in were short-lived and mostly unsatisfying, but then he could say the same about his affairs with women. Actually, he'd about given up hope of ever finding whatever it was he was looking for in relationships. But that was Before Blair. 

Now that Jim had realized he loved Blair, would love Blair for the rest of his existence, the pieces of the puzzle were in place --- all except the last one. And if he'd done his homework correctly, that piece would fit perfectly and complete the picture of his life. Fear ran icy fingers up his spine, 'Oh, God, don't let me be wrong!!' 

When he'd first realized just how important Blair was becoming to him, Jim fell into a deep depression. Blair's conquests were legendary in the department. Every woman he turned those ocean blue eyes on, sooner or later, succumbed to his raw sensuality and pure beauty. But they never stayed long --- Blair seemed more interested in variety than anything else. 

The men weren't immune either. Although they were more subtle, probably due to the unspoken rules of the 'brotherhood', Jim had seen more than one gaze longingly at Blair and had heard the quiet offers. He'd probably had to deal with that most of his life, even though he wasn't effeminate, far from it. Even though small and beautiful beyond belief, he was astoundingly, arousingly masculine. Maybe that was part of the attraction. Anyway, he seemed to take the offers in stride and go on, for the most part. 

Occasionally, though, when Jim picked up an increase in Blair's heartbeat and breathing, and the acrid odor of fear wafted across the room, he'd looked up quickly to meet Blair's terror-stricken gaze. Slowly Jim began to realize these incidents were tied to the whispered propositions. Blair was obviously panicking at the thought of Jim hearing those muted conversations. Of course, Jim *had* heard, but he wasn't sure just exactly why Blair was scared. Was he anxious that Jim might think he was gay? Probably. He obviously thought Jim was Mr. Straight Cop of America, an impression Jim had never given him any reason to doubt. He was most likely afraid Jim would throw him out of the loft and he'd lose his thesis subject. 

'If he only knew how much the idea of losing him terrifies me,' Jim thought, 'he'd realize he could take over completely and, lord, then what would I do.' Laughter bubbling in his chest, Jim remembered giving in to Sandburg's patented 'puppy dog eyes' and pouty mouth. 'Oh, man, just one look and I'm gone, can't concentrate, can't even think. Hell, I have trouble just breathing when he does that.' 

If those fearful glances had been all the evidence he'd had, Jim would have given up right then. But that, coupled with the few times he'd caught Blair staring at him with sheer, unadulterated hunger, had been enough to pull Jim out of his depression and start him on this quest. Being a detective, a very good detective, had saved his life many times, but never had the skills he'd learned been more valuable than now. Using all the resources at his disposal, Detective James Ellison had painstakingly built a case, taking care that every avenue was covered. 

He'd carefully gathered every scrap of information, slowly adding to the growing body of evidence. He listened closely to what Blair said, how he said it, watched the expression on his face; noticed how many times a day Blair found some excuse to touch him; began to see the small ways Blair went far beyond simple friendship for him every day; and finally, he'd actually followed Blair on a few dates, just to see what happened when Blair went out with women. 

He was surprised when the dates ended earlier than he'd thought they had. Sometimes he wasn't gone long at all, saying he'd come home early because he was tired or not feeling well. Jim had to really hustle to get back to the loft before Blair. A lot of times Blair just went to a cafe by himself to drink coffee and stare into the night, not even picking anyone up. Jim would have given a lot to have telepathy on those nights. 

He'd realized several months before that he hadn't been able to smell the women on Blair and had begun to pay special attention to the aromas surrounding Blair on his date nights. There was seldom more than a faint trace of perfume --- no scents of arousal --- either masculine or feminine. And never a hint of sexual fluids. He'd thought Blair might be showering before coming home, but was beginning to believe there was no sexual activity going on at all. Then why was Blair keeping up the pretense of dating? He knew Jim could sense when nothing had happened. 

The final breakthrough had come last Saturday morning when, lying in bed, Jim had suddenly heard Blair's heartbeat and breathing speed up and then the silky sound of skin sliding against skin. Cautiously getting out of bed, padding down the stairs, standing silent outside Blair's bedroom, he'd opened all his senses fully to gather as much sensory input as possible. He'd felt guilty at the invasion of Blair's privacy, but he'd done worse to make a case, and none of them had been nearly as important as this one. 

As the sounds increased, he picked up the aromas of arousal, the bitter salty smell of pre-cum and the faint, unmistakable trace of pheromones. A bolt of pure desire rocketed through his body and his knees threatened to buckle under him. Gathering all his strength, resisting the urge to burst into the bedroom, and take what he hoped --- what he *knew* --- was his, he waited and listened. As Blair's heartbeat reached its highest peak and he smelled the sharp, overpowering odor of semen, Jim heard the one word that sealed the case --- "Jiiiimmmmm!!!" --- whispered with such raw lust and passion he almost lost the little bit of control he'd achieved. That whisper rolled like a wave through his body and settled in his groin, causing his erection to throb and jerk wildly. 

'Blair had called his name as he came!! *His* name.' Smiling, he quickly and quietly moved back up the stairs, before Blair could get out of bed. Hugging to himself the knowledge that he'd won, he stroked himself fast and hard, moaning Blair's name softly as his orgasm ripped through his body. 

Now, a week later, he'd completed the investigation, put together a plan, and was ready to go into action. He stood, waiting breathlessly, outside the University. As he looked up Blair came out of the building and walked toward him. Suddenly time stood still and he watched the center of his universe approach in slow motion. A slight breeze lifted those incredibly soft curls away from the elegant neck he longed bury his face against, those blue, blue eyes lit with the joy of life, and that mouth, 'Oh, merciful gods!!', the mouth that he wanted to devour, slowly curved in a smile that made his legs go weak and his body ache. A line from a poem, altered to fit, flowed through his mind. 

'He walks in beauty, like the night . . .'   
  


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